


No More Words

by menel



Category: Arthurian Mythology, Camelot (TV)
Genre: Confessions, Episode Tag, First Kiss, Guilt, M/M, Pining, Storytelling, Unrequited
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2017-06-10
Packaged: 2018-11-12 09:34:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11159154
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/menel/pseuds/menel
Summary: Merlin returns to Camelot with the promised sword and a fantastical tale to match Excalibur’s mysterious origins, but Arthur can see that all is not well with the sorcerer. He seeks the other man out to discover his secrets, and to resolve some unfinished business between them.





	No More Words

**Author's Note:**

> This fic takes place at the end of the episode 4, "Lady of the Lake." It's a sequel to ["The Sins of the Father"](http://archiveofourown.org/works/421239).

Merlin’s door was not closed but Arthur paused at the entrance. The sorcerer saw him standing in the doorway and waved him inside. 

“For you,” Arthur said, placing the small tray filled with a bowl of heated water and a washing cloth on the table in Merlin’s room. As Merlin approached the table, he also noticed that there was a yellow salve beside the bowl. 

The sorcerer arched an eyebrow. “Thank you,” he said, picking up the yellow salve and sniffing it. 

“Igraine says it’ll help with your cuts,” Arthur explained. 

“Of that I am certain,” Merlin agreed. “Since I taught her the mixture myself.” 

“Oh.” 

Arthur stood by the table at a loss for what to say. He had not anticipated this awkwardness between them. Well, _his_ awkwardness. Merlin, as usual, seemed perfectly at ease.

“You could have sent someone else,” Merlin said, as he picked up the washcloth and soaked it in the water. 

That was true, Arthur thought. But instead he said aloud, “I wanted to speak with you.” 

“About?” 

Arthur tried not to watch as Merlin wrung the excess water from the cloth. Or when Merlin began wiping the cloth on his face and running it over his head, lingering a while on the bruise near his left eye and the cut on his upper forehead. Arthur tried not to think about how he’d like to be the one to tend to those wounds, and then smiled at the absurdity of his own thoughts. Merlin caught the smile and arched an eyebrow quizzically, but Arthur only sat down on the bench in front of the other man. He pulled out Excalibur and laid the sword on the table. Merlin’s eyes darkened for a moment, but the darkness vanished so quickly that Arthur questioned if it had been there at all. 

“Where did you get Excalibur?” he asked as Merlin continued his cleaning. 

“I already told you where I got Excalibur,” the sorcerer replied. 

“And it was quite a tale,” Arthur said. “You don’t actually expect me to believe it, do you?” 

“Everyone else did.” 

“I am not everyone else.” 

Merlin paused and put the washcloth on the table. He sat down opposite Arthur and pushed the tray slightly to his right before resting his arms in front of him. “No,” he agreed. “You are not everyone else.” He picked up the salve and ran two fingertips across its surface. “But that doesn’t make the tale any less true,” he added. 

“You got the sword from a lady in a lake?” 

“Yes.” 

There was a pause. 

“Do you know what I think?” Arthur said at last. 

Merlin motioned that he should continue. 

“I think,” Arthur went on, “that you’re in the business of making myths and legends.” 

This made the sorcerer smile. “It comes with the territory,” he conceded, slightly amused. He put some of the salve on the cut on his forehead, treating the wound by touch but not completely covering it. 

“Here, let me,” Arthur said, standing up and moving to the opposite side of the table. 

The sorcerer eyed him for a moment before swinging his leg over the side of the bench and facing the king. Arthur sat down the same way, straddling the bench so that his knees brushed against Merlin’s legs when he sat. Then he scooted a little closer so that his legs slotted neatly in between Merlin’s spread ones. If Merlin thought the king’s actions were suggestive he chose to ignore them, placing the salve on the bench in between them. Arthur scooped some of the salve onto his fingertips. It felt cool to his touch and Merlin didn’t even wince when Arthur began applying it onto the sorcerer’s cuts. When he was done, Merlin nodded his thanks. 

“Do you have any other –” Arthur began, but the sorcerer cut him off. 

“I think I can handle it from here,” Merlin interrupted, that amused smile once more playing on the corners of lips. 

Arthur knew that Merlin was about to rise and he thought desperately of something to make the sorcerer stay, anything to prolong the moment. 

“I’ve spoken to Guinevere.” 

That caught Merlin’s attention. “And?” 

“And we agreed that there was nothing between us.” 

“You agreed that there was nothing between you?” Merlin repeated carefully. He looked thoughtful as he deliberately leaned back. 

“What?” Arthur was leaning forward, elbows resting on his knees. 

There was that half-smile again. “I didn’t realize,” Merlin said, “that your relationship had progressed to a point where you had to agree on something like that.” Then he leaned forward himself, cocking his head to the right as he pierced Arthur with his gaze. 

Arthur didn’t flinch but he could feel a faint blush creeping up his cheeks. How could he have forgotten how perceptive the other man was? One offhanded remark and he had revealed far more than he had intended. Now the prospect of lying to Merlin was even more cringe inducing. Merlin, he knew, would see right through him. 

“Well,” he began, then sat back and looked at his hands. Merlin’s scrutiny was unbearable. “It started with that dream.” 

“On the beach?” 

“Yes,” Arthur said. “And then it happened.” He looked up. “I met her on the beach. She came over the dunes and I swear, she was a vision come to life.” 

Something flashed in Merlin’s eyes then, some kind of recognition but it burned away just as quickly and Arthur was left with the sorcerer’s even gaze. Merlin placed his right hand on Arthur’s left knee and began drawing small lazy circles there with his middle finger. Arthur watched Merlin’s hand, finding the action both soothing and distracting. Its effect, however, was to put him at ease. 

“When did this happen?” 

The question drew Arthur’s attention back. “Before the coronation.” He leaned forward again. “We spoke only for a moment. I didn’t know who she was. She wouldn’t even give me her name.” 

“And that’s all?” Merlin pressed. “You met her on the beach and then at the coronation?” 

The hand on Arthur’s knee stopped its movements, tapping him twice as though to get his attention. 

“There was one more time,” Arthur admitted. 

Merlin shifted his focus from Arthur’s knee to his left hand, which the sorcerer now held lightly in his right, palm facing upwards. He ran his thumb back and forth along the base of Arthur’s hand. Arthur found the action so natural that he didn’t stop to wonder why Merlin was holding his hand. 

“On the day of the wedding,” Arthur continued, hardly believing what he was saying. Had Merlin cast some sort of spell on him? He was acutely aware of how close they were now. Helping Merlin with the salve had been his ploy to get closer to the sorcerer, but somewhere along the way Merlin had turned his advances against him. 

“What happened on the day of the wedding?” Merlin asked, breath warm over Arthur’s face. 

“I was upset,” Arthur said. “I’d had another dream of her, once more on the beach. I couldn’t sleep after that so I got up. We were at Morgan’s castle. This was when I passed by your bedchamber and saw you with my sister.” Arthur shook his head, as if dispelling the memory. “I felt so . . . betrayed. I had to leave. I rode all night. It was dawn by the time I reached Camelot. I went straight to Guinevere’s chamber. Her cousin, Bridget, was still asleep. I asked Guinevere to meet me on the beach later that morning . . . and she did.” 

Arthur stopped speaking. He couldn’t finish this story and there was no need. He knew by the look on Merlin’s face and the stillness of the hand that held his that Merlin understood what had happened on the beach. And it wasn’t until this moment that Arthur also understood how awful that act had been, how grave the consequences of their weak wills. He could see all this written on Merlin’s face and he was ashamed. 

“You must never speak of this again,” Merlin said gravely. “To anyone. Not even to your brother and especially not to Leontes.” 

“Of course,” Arthur hurriedly replied, his face warm. 

Merlin stood up and walked several paces away from the king. He was disturbed. He suspected that someone else knew about Arthur’s weakness. Although he had not witnessed it, Merlin had been told that Arthur had presided over Guinevere and Leontes’ wedding. When he had encountered Arthur later that night, he had known instinctively that something was amiss with the king, that some magic had been worked on him or through him. He had seen it in the king’s eyes. He had banished that intruder but who knows how long they had been spying? Who knows what they may have seen? 

“You are more like your father than I ever dreamed,” Merlin said quietly, his back to the king. 

Arthur was still burning from the shame of his admission and he lashed out in his defense. “My father took Igraine out of a senseless lust,” he said. “We are _not_ the same.”

Merlin turned around, his arms folded across his chest. “You think,” he said quietly, “that what do you did on that beach was not borne out of lust?” 

“It was passion not lust!” 

Merlin laughed and the sound was harsh to Arthur’s ears. “Semantics,” he replied once more in his even tone. 

Arthur stood up. “We have a connection, Guinevere and I,” he said, walking towards the sorcerer. “But I did as you asked. All of that is in the past now.” He stood in front of Merlin and looked the sorcerer in the eye. “It is ended because _you_ asked.”

Merlin held the king’s gaze easily. “Good,” he replied, willfully ignoring the young man’s tone and the emphasis of his words. He remembered his actions at Tintagel, wondering, not for the first time, if he had gone too far. He had found the means to divert Arthur’s attraction from Guinevere, but to follow that path posed a different kind of danger. “Now if you don’t mind, I’d like to get some rest.” 

Arthur could feel the lines of tension throughout his body. Every encounter with Merlin was unexpected. His agenda had been so clear when he had stepped inside the sorcerer’s room and yet so little had gone according to plan. Now the other man was dismissing him. Actually, dismissing him – the king! 

“Thank you,” Merlin was saying, motioning towards the table where they had sat. “For the water and the salve.” 

“You’re welcome,” Arthur heard himself reply. His mother had seen to it that good manners were as natural to him as breathing. But there was more that he wanted to say, and he struggled with the words. “What happened to you today?” he finally got out. “I meant what I said earlier,” he continued in a rush. “It matters. It matters to _me_.”

“And I told you that it wasn’t important,” Merlin brushed aside. 

“It is to me,” Arthur insisted, stepping towards the other man and forcing himself into Merlin’s space. 

Merlin didn’t give an inch, but Arthur saw the briefest flicker of surprise pass through the other man’s eyes. It emboldened him. 

“What happened to you today?” he repeated, putting as much kingly weight behind the words as he could manage. Admittedly, it didn’t seem like very much since his voice never sounded as commanding as he’d like, especially not in comparison to Merlin who could slink between shadows unnoticed or command an entire room with his presence if he chose. The sorcerer’s infuriating half-smile was back, but it also meant that Merlin had chosen to humor him. 

“I was in a bar fight,” Merlin answered. 

“And you couldn't defend yourself?” Arthur couldn’t help but cheekily ask. 

“I was the one who provoked the fight.” 

“Why would you do that?” Arthur asked, surprised. 

“I deserved the punishment.” 

“For what?” 

“For my actions earlier in the day.” 

Arthur swallowed thickly. The unexpected brute honesty of the sorcerer was making his uncomfortable. This behavior was uncharacteristic for the ever-evasive older man. Merlin’s eyes dropped to the golden hilt of Arthur’s sword that now sat in its scabbard. 

“It’s about Excalibur, isn’t it?” Arthur said, piecing two and two together. 

Arthur saw the dark flare in the sorcerer’s eyes again and he wondered if he’d pushed too far, if this was the moment that Merlin would rebuff him. But once more that dangerous flicker faded, and Merlin turned away from him, walking back to the bench and sitting down again, this time leaning against the table. 

“Yes,” he said, and the word came out as an exhale. 

“You didn’t pull this sword out of a lake,” Arthur challenged. 

Merlin gave him a sidelong look, equally challenging and twice as dangerous. “Oh, but I did,” the sorcerer assured him. “It’s what happened before…” He trailed off. 

Tentatively, Arthur approached the other man, sitting down carefully beside him, as though their roles were reversed and Merlin was a skittish colt. Arthur was aware of his tenuous position, just as he was aware of the darkness that had enveloped the room, a darkness that emanated from Merlin himself. The sorcerer possessed a wealth of knowledge and experience, but within it laid some terrible secrets. One of those secrets Merlin might share with him now if Arthur handled this moment deftly. 

“What happened before?” he asked softly. He dared not look at the other man, but when Merlin didn’t respond, Arthur glanced to his right. He hadn’t expected the look of pure anguish on the sorcerer’s face. 

“It was an accident,” Merlin whispered, so softly that Arthur had to strain to hear the words. 

Arthur wanted to push, but he refrained. He would have to learn how to wait Merlin out. 

“I had a dream,” Merlin continued, speaking more to himself than to Arthur. “A premonition, really. He told me that he’d changed his ways, that from being a warrior he now only made weapons of war. But there was still blood in his heart. I saw it. He would’ve killed you with this sword if he’d had the chance.” 

“So, you killed him instead,” Arthur interrupted before he could stop himself. 

“That was _not_ my intention,” Merlin lashed back.

Arthur flinched, but held his ground. 

“He wouldn’t give me the sword,” Merlin continued, that fire blazing in his eyes. “We fought for it. It never should’ve gone that far.” 

What Merlin didn’t say – what he wouldn’t say – was _how_ Caliban had died. Just as he had been able to divine Caliban’s true intentions, the old sword master had also seen Merlin’s heart. Caliban had understood the intoxicating power of sorcery and why Merlin chose not to use his gifts. He’d taunted Merlin with that knowledge. During their struggle for the sword, at the height of his emotions, Merlin had lashed out with the power of fire, scorching the sword master with his own flame.

“You did it to protect me,” Arthur said, after a long moment. 

Merlin had almost forgotten that Arthur was there. He looked sharply at the young king, and once more Arthur didn’t flinch. 

“You did it to protect me,” Arthur said again, more forcefully this time. 

Merlin would not be swayed, even as he knew there was truth in Arthur’s words. “What do you want from me?” he asked quietly, the faintest note of weariness in his voice. 

Arthur let that low voice wash over him, briefly shutting his eyes. Merlin was the most confusing man he’d ever met, one that provoked such contradictory feelings in him. He didn’t know what he wanted from Merlin. It was a question that he purposely avoided for fear of what the answer would be. 

“You,” he said, opening his eyes again. “I want you,” he said with more certainty.

Merlin’s smile was caustic and a little brittle. “And what would you do with me?” he inquired, his voice mocking. 

Arthur had no answer for that either; at least, no answer that could be conveyed in words. He let his instincts guide him. Before he could think about what he was doing or before Merlin could react, he’d leaned towards Merlin and grasped the other man’s face with both his hands, taking the kiss that Merlin had denied him in Tintagel.

It wasn’t much of a kiss, certainly nothing like his self-assured, suave kisses of conquests past. But he persisted, pressing his lips firmly against Merlin’s, willing the other man to break his resolve. He knew the moment it happened, and he greedily welcomed the feel of Merlin’s tongue and the warm wetness of his mouth. Merlin kissed like a hurricane and Arthur felt consumed by him. He let himself be swept away by that kiss, ceding all control to the older man. He liked it, he realized. He was thrilled by the idea of not being in control, of casting away the burden of leadership if only momentarily. Yes, he could be a king on his knees for the sorcerer.

The kiss ended as abruptly as it began, leaving Arthur breathless and dazed. Merlin had stood up and taken a few steps away from him, keeping his back to the other man. Arthur absently brushed his lips with his fingers. He could still taste Merlin, and the other man was as intoxicating as he’d suspected. 

“Thank you,” Merlin said, his voice measured and his composure regained. 

Arthur started at the words, the briefest flicker of hope rising in his chest. 

“For the salve,” Merlin continued, turning to face Arthur again. 

The flicker of hope went out. Arthur remained seated, studying the sorcerer’s face intently. There had been no aftereffects of a vision this time, no magic that he could fall back on as an excuse. But Merlin tonight hadn’t been fully in control, not like he’d been at Tintagel. It was possible, then, to crack the sorcerer’s impenetrable veneer. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

With that Arthur was dismissed…again. 

This time Arthur didn’t resist. There would be many more battles with Merlin in the coming days; battles of the will, battles of the mind, and yes, battles of the heart. One day, Arthur thought, he would win them all. 

Arthur stood up and gave Merlin a slight nod. 

“Yes,” he agreed. “Tomorrow.” 

 

**Fin.**

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: _Camelot_ is the property of Starz. No infringement is intended; no profit is being made.


End file.
